The Fatal Flaw
by IamTheRaven
Summary: We all know what World War II REALLY was about...But how did it begin? What your history textbook didn't tell you. A hopeless love between two races and godhoods: the hatred and despair that lead to the Holocaust. Romance, Violence, and Angst. R and R.
1. Prologue

(This is probably my best fic. Enjoy!

BTW, are you bored? If you are, check out my forum, "Newbies to Fanfiction, Specifically Percy Jackson." It's not really for newbs anymore, it's just for random chat. The first person to post something on random chat gets a special prize! :D check it out.)

Very few times in the history of man has a single person caused the death of millions. And it is even more rare that that one person is unaware or unresponsible for the deaths of those millions.

But when it occurs, it usually has something to do with the gods.

Helen of Greece and Paris of Troy couldn't help that Aphrodite had bewitched them.

Attilla the Hun was always possesed by a very bored Ares.

Bored gods usually equals war.

But not so this time.

This is a story of bitter hate.

This story shows what the power of hate can do.

This story shows the difference of generations or race or prestige can split a family apart.

This is the story of how one, or rather three, young men innitiated the biggest massacre in all of history.

And you can be assured, the gods were involved.

* * *

The Three Widows Laundromat stood facing a broad street in Berlin. The fresh air of Germany appealed deeply to the three women who ran it: one a native, one a Jew, and one an American. The sound of children's laughter could often be heard, and joy was always present. It was another normal day in Germany.

The widows, who made quite a decent living, usually lived a carefree lifestyle; but today, the air was tense; for today was the day that Yechiel turned fifteen.

The widows all shared a secret; they had married men who were brothers. But these men were all very different, and they had more power than any human beings on earth. Chiefly because they weren't human.

They had all had to go, quite suddenly, but they had made a pact with their wives; they made them promise that they would always stay together, and that they would tell their sons the secret when they each had turned fifteen.

Ralf was the oldest; his mother, Nadia, had borne him in May. Ralf had dark hair, like both his parents, and was strong and athletic. He wished to enlist in the young German youth camp for future German militants; he was a patriot to the core. But he was soon to find out his summer would be spent in a very different sort of camp.

Sam was in the middle; his American mother, who had immigrated to the German heartland as a journalist, was called Emily. She had met her husband during her stay in Berlin; and she knew that she could never again report. She knew it was best, for her son, whom she had borne in June, to stay with the other two widows.

Yechiel was the youngest. His mother had immigrated from Palestine, searching for a better job. She had met her husband on the way; a man of true power. Reizel was a quiet woman; but she had an iron stare. Her look was pure death; and she had incredible beauty. Even now, approaching her forties, Reizel had a look of an young independent; thus she had attracted a most powerful man. Her son was quite the opposite; he was a mystic of a sort. He was calm, and peaceful; he didn't believe in war and he cared nothing for books. Today, July fourth, was Yechiel's birthday.

As Emily hung her garments up on a clothesline, she bit her lip in worry.

Emily was the most political of the three, having been a reporter. She knew the tensions of the European nations was like a keg of gunpowder, ready to be ignited. It would only take a small spark to set it off. And that would be bad for their interacial business: and for her son.

She watched him with curiosity. She felt the wind riffle her hair, and she smelled a sea breeze. A smirk lit across her face. Her husband was watching over her always. His son was truly a spitting image of him; he had dark hair and peculiar, yet beautiful, sea green eyes. He took more after his mother though; he was a tart, bitter, yet very political and smart child.

It had always been an inside joke among the boys that Yechiel, a Jew, was born on an American holiday. His cousins had laughed about it.

The three boys had as strong a bond as physically possible; they had grown up together, through thick and thin. They had seemingly been attacked by various creatures of the wild since a young age, and they looked out for one another. No one ever believed their wild tales of man eating bears and other unknown boogums, even their mothers. But they all knew the truth.

They may as well have been brothers. Not even death could have come between them; yet, little did they know, they were soon to face worse.

Through no fault of their own, these three young men caused the deaths of over fifty million mortals.

This is the story of what your history textbook didn't tell you.

* * *

"Yechiel? Yechiel! You rude child, come down here! Emily is so kind as to bake you a cake and you're late!" called Reizel sternly.

Emily supressed a smile. She had always felt sorry for Yechiel; both his parents had always been powerful, stern people. Yechiel was the opposite, yet he was borne to them.

"One minute mother! I'm helping Didi clean off her face!" he called.

The three husbands had returned a few years ago, each one visiting for the month that their child had been born in. You see, the three brothers couldn't stand being together for very long, unlike their wives. In that time, Reizel and Nadia had become pregnant again. Reizel had borne Devorah, a beautiful girl with electric blue eyes and silky blonde hair, whom they referred to as DiDi. Nadia had borne Bruno, a simple yet handsome young man, with fair hair and eyes so black you couldn't see their pupils. They both were nearing three years of age, and Bruno and DiDi didn't get along very well.

(An minimize confusion:

Reizel: Jew- Yechiel, Devorah/"DiDi"

Emily: American-Sam

Nadia:German-Ralf, Bruno)

"What do you mean, cleaning off her face? Did she eat something?" screamed Reizel, who was losing her temper. Suddenly Emily began to burst out in laughter. She had checked on her cake she had made for Yechiel and found that there was now a huge chunk taken out, with only the letters "Y" and "L" left. Nadia politely shook her head, and seemed sympathetic. Reizel screamed in rage.

"DEVORAH TALER!" she yelled, while Emily winced. His mother had used her real name; that meant she was really in trouble.

Nadia pursed her lips. The German woman adored DiDi. She didn't want the poor girl to be punished. Nadia was a quiet woman, but she was rejected by her family, for she had broken her arranged marriage and married a dark, mysterious man.

In fact, all of them had been rejected at home. Emily, for ditching her career and becoming an unskilled launderer in an Anti-American country, Reizel for not marrying a Jew. Though they had managed to escape the roles of adulteresses for having children after their husbands had supposedly died, they had not escaped rejection from their families. Their husbands had managed to clean their adultery records, and make sure that no one cared about their mixed races (for as I said, they were very powerful men) but nothing can repair the broken bond of family.

Nadia had always been a quiet, moral woman. It was odd that she was attracted to such a dark man. She often yearned for him, even now.

"Now, Reizel, don't spoil the mood. Today is a big day, after all..." she said calmly.

Reizel seemed angry, but she paled as she realized Nadia was right. She paused a moment as Emily, herself, and Nadia all shared a moment of silent recognition. Today was the day. After a long pause, Reizel nodded slowly and called,

"Nevermind that, Yechiel, just bring Ralf and Sam down here!" she called, almost nervously, but not quite. If Reizel was ever nervous, she never showed it.

"What about Bruno and DiDi?" asked Ralf, who was putting on his frock coat.

"They can come down in a few minutes," replied Nadia.

"Make sure they don't come down yet though!"

This made the three cousins look at each other in puzzlement. What was it that their mothers wanted to tell them?

Ralf was the first to step down the stairs, followed by Sam, and finally by Yechiel.

The upstairs room was silent. Bruno stared at DiDi begrudgingly.

"Well, I'm going to go read my adventure books," he said with a smirk. Devorah stamped her foot.

"You're so mean to me!" she cried, as Bruno stuck his tongue out at her. When he did this, DiDi stepped back in shock.

She began to cry, and Bruno felt a little bit guilty.

"Wait, DiDi, I'm sorry...please don't cry!" he began.

You see, Devorah couldn't yet read, but Bruno could, and he often liked to brag about it. DiDi shook her head.

"You can go read your dumb adventure book! I'm going to have a real adventure!" she cried. Bruno smirked at this.

"Like what?" he asked.

"I'm going to sneak downstairs and listen to what momma is saying that we're not supposed to hear!" she whispered with excitement. Bruno gasped; for this was a very good adventure indeed. He pawed the ground nervously.

"Can I come?" he asked sheepishly. DiDi snorted.

"Why don't you just read your adventure?" she said.

"Please?" he asked. Devorah sighed.

The children had to calm their giggling before they could finally step down the stairs so that their parents wouldn't hear.

The first voice they heard was Emily's.

"That monster was real," she said, exhaling.

Ralf looked at her.

"Well we knew that! Don't you see that scar on Yechiel's neck?" he said. "We looked it up in that silly book of myths you force us to study, and it appears to be a Minotaur," he continued. Reizel growled, "You watch your tone young man."

Sam arched an eyebrow.

"So Minotaurs exist? What about the other mythical creatures we've been seeing? I thought I was mad but that Minotaur had to have been real. Why hasn't anyone else seen them?" he asked.

Emily shook her head.

"People have," she said.

"Like who?" Yechiel replied. Reizel snorted.

"Like the Greeks, and the Romans. At the time when the mist was weaker," she said.

"So those really aren't myths?" said Sam, his eyes widening.

"Wait, since the what grew weaker?" asked Yechiel.

The women said nothing for a while.

Finally Ralf spoke up.

"If the creatures of that book are real, then what about the gods? The heroes?" he asked slowly. The women looked at each other. Nadia gulped.

"You really are a smart one, boy. Wish you were MY son," muttered Reizel.

Yechiel pouted.

"They are all real too, my sons, as real as you and me, and they are all the more inportant in your lives," said Nadia softly.

The three stared at their mothers.

"Why?" they asked in unison.

Bruno furled his eyebrows and DiDi didn't know what to think. They barely knew anything about the old myths, but their siblings had told them a little about the gods. Zeus, also known as Jupiter to the Romans was married to Hera, also known as Juno. Kronos or Saturn was the evil god who ate his kids. Athena or Minerva was the wise lady, and Hades or Pluto was the bad guy who was in charge of the dead people...and so on.

"The gods are real?" whispered Bruno.

"That's so cool!" whispered an excited Devorah.

Reizel took a deep breath. She finally stood up and revealed a large spear from under the table, which crackled with electricity. She lifted it slowly, stared at a particular houseplant of Emily's she hated, and jerked the spear. Immediately a bolt of lightning erupted from the tip, shattering the plant into a million pieces.

"Hey!" shouted Emily. "That's not fair!"

The three boys stared at the spear in shock. Reizel put the spear in front of them.

Ralf soon regained his senses.

"Good Lord! What the Kapo could do with those weapons..." he exclaimed, reaching for the spear.

"Don't touch it!" Reizel screamed. Ralf stepped back.

"It will kill you! Only me and my son can touch it," she said. Yechiel looked up in wonder.

"Me? But I hate weapons...and all things violent!" he complained. Reizel tried to hold her temper.

"It was a gift from your father," she said slowly. That changed Yechiel's perspective. He cautiously gripped the spear, and held on firmly.

Now Emily stood up, and she took out a small tie pin. All boys then had to wear one in order to be proper.

"Hate those things," muttered Bruno.

"Shh!" said DiDi.

"This is a gift from your father, Sam," she said.

Sam looked disappointed.

"That's my gift? Look at Yechiels!" he complained.

Emily opened the clasp. Suddenly the pin began to grow and unfold until it was a sword nearly three feat long. It glowed with a faint light. Emily noted Reizel's favorite statuette on a table nearby made from solid wood, and cleaved it in two with the blade. Reizel snarled and tried to attack, but Yechiel refused to give her the spear.

"Here, my boy, let your Greek finally come in handy," Emily said, showing him the side of the sword.

The boys of the Three Widows Laundromat had always been forced to learn many languages. They all spoke German as their native language, while Sam had to learn English and Yechiel Hebrew, but they all had to learn Latin and Greek. They absolutely hated it and always questioned their mothers on the subject of why they had to learn it, but they never replied. Sam squinted at the letters.

All three boys had dyslexia and were quite hyperactive. Nowadays we would call that, "ADD," but there was no such thing in the early 1900's. However, Greek always came easily to the three.

"Riptide," he said, reading the side of the sword. Reizel shook her head.

"You'll come to regret that blade, boy. It's cursed, I swear..." she mumbled.

"Hush Reizel, it's his father's most cherished," said Emily. Reizel had a good comeback for that but said nothing.

Finally Nadia came forward. She held out a simple cap that boys then often wore.

"Your father has a cap just like this, Ralf, but much more powerful. I don't want you to use it except in your greatest need," she said.

Ralf the militant looked dissapointed.

"Does it expand into a weapon like Sam's?" he asked. Nadia shook her head. Ralf sighed.

"This is more destructive than both their weapons, though, by far, Ralf," she said sadly. The other two widows agreed solemnly.

"This cap will not only make you invisible, it will radiate fear...and death," she said. Ralf nodded, waiting to hear her explain the rest.

"It brings out the worst fears possible in people...enough to drive them mad. Do not use it, for it is a terrible, terrible weapon, unless you must," she said. Ralf took the cap gravely. That would be good for the Kapo, too...

There was silence for a while.

"So...What do these gifts mean?" asked Yechiel.

Nadia chose her words carefully.

"Son...All of you...Do you remember the relations between the gods and mortal women?" she asked.

Ralf nodded.

"They often would bear children and have extra-maritial affairs," he replied.

"And you ever wondered why your fathers are never home? And why when they came to visit you were not home?" Nadia continued.

Yechiel and Sam nodded fiercely. Both boys had longed for, and sometime nursed deep grudges against their fathers. Ralf was a little different...

Finally, all three women stood up. They chanted in unison:

"It is time you learned the truth."

Reizel spoke first. She took a deep breath.

"Yechiel, your father is Zeus, or Jupiter, god of the skies and king of all gods," she said.

Emily was next.

"Sam, your father was Poseidon or Neptune the earthshaker, god of the seas and brother to Zeus," she said.

Lastly Nadia spoke.

"Ralf, your father was Hades, or Pluto, Lord of the dead," she said.

DiDi snickered.

"Haha, your dad is the bad guy," she said to Bruno.

"Shut up," he muttered.

There was deathly silence.

The women anxiously awaited the boys' responses.

Eventually, Ralf began to laugh. Yechiel and Sam resisted at first, but soon they two gave in.

"I think you've had to much to drink again, mother!" laughed Ralf. Reizel shook with anger. Nadia nodded sympathetically. Emily shook her head bitterly.

Suddenly there was a banging on the back door.

"Now who could that-" Reizel began, but never finished. Because the next bang made it clear that the visitor was not human.

All eyes turned in terror to the door. The sound of breaking glass rang in their ears.

DiDi ran up the stairs in a panic, but Bruno remained to watch. He regretted that decision for the rest of his life.

Reizel, Nadia, and Emily jumped up from the table.

"The monsters! They've found us!" cried a terrified Nadia.

Reizel growled.

"We shouldve known...Why did they make us wait so long! The children of the big three...all together..." she mumbled.

Emily whispered, "Your weapons! Take them out, use them well!"

Yechiel gripped his spear tightly, and Sam uncapped his tie pin. But Nadia stepped in the way.

"No! They are not trained. I will not have my sons fight!"

Reizel growled with anger.

"Then what do you suggest we do? Don't be a coward, Nadia! Let the boys fight!"

The beating on the door grew louder. The frame started to buckle and break.

Nadia took out a black bottle and quickly drank all its contents. The other two "widows" looked at her curiously.

"A gift from my Lord... for a time of great need," she explained. The other women nodded in understanding, though Reizel was still unhappy.

"Children, come near me!" Nadia cried. She huddled them close to her body.

"I'm taking them to Camp Half Blood," she said to the other women. She chanted some strange words, and her eyes were filled with black fire. Suddenly the four people dissapeared in a shadow.

The banging got louder, and the door was nearly destroyed. DiDi had fallen, and at the sight of the monster through the broken glass, she fainted.

But Bruno remained at the base of the stairs. And he never forgot what he saw.

Emily braced herself for the attack.

"Why are they here?" she exclaimed. "The boys are gone!" she reasoned. Reizel was desperately searching for a weapon.

"How in gods name should I know!" she screamed. Then her eyes lit up.

"The other children!" she yelled, too late.

Emily turned around to face Bruno on the staircase.

The door broke loose.

Bruno would never forget it.

Emily reached for her tie pin...

And realized it wasn't there.

Reizel ran to the monster, crow bar in hand...

But it was too late.

The image stayed with Bruno forever.

The horror on his aunt's face.

She had given Riptide to Sam.

The monster took her with one swipe of his mouth.

His aunt was gone before he could scream.

* * *

Nadia collapsed in exhaustion.

"Where...where are we?" murmured Sam. Ralf looked around, dizzy.

"We're...we're in...Paris?" he muttered.

"Paris?" asked Yechiel. "Why would you say..."

Suddenly he saw the Eiffel tower looming in the distance.

"Mother? How did his happen?" Ralf asked curiously.

"Sh-shad-Shadow-Shadow travel," Nadia panted.

"A travel only for Lords and Ladies of the dead, for those with the blood of Hades," she said.

Ralf snorted. He had always been a terribly practical person, and this was all too much.

And though he knew this was really happening, he refused to believe it.

That was a trait that ran in Hades' line; he simply couldn't believe it when misfortune struck. And this trait would cause the biggest war in earth's mortal history.

Not to mention the imprisoning of a certain oracle...

Hades, the Lord of the Dead, could not handle death very well when it came to his precious few loved ones.

"Alright, assuming this is all true, how are you a Lady of the dead? You are only his wife...or...um..." Ralf muttered.

Nadia gave a weak smile.

"You are right, son. I am no Lady of the dead. You, however are a Lord. You may shadow travel naturally. I, however, had to drink this potion..." she murmured.

Ralf shook his head.

"I still don't believe it," he said.

"Do you believe this?" a voice asked.

Ralf turned, and from then on, he believed, for as they say, seeing is believing.

He stared at a pair of horse hooves, then looked up into a kindly face.

"Welcome to camp half blood," said Chiron.

Three weeks had passed at camp half blood.

The boys would have been in good spirits... Were it not for the death of Emily.

Sam never left his cabin.

He could not believe his mother had died; perhaps this trait wasn't unique to Hades alone.

The sons of Poseidon, though they are few and far between, are very sentimental. And close to their mothers.

Sam just sat alone. He found that even Ralf could not bargain his mother's life from Hades.

Ralf walked in one day, worried deeply for his cousin.

"Sam...Sam...Please come out. Won't you at least eat?" he begged.

"This is the BBC..." murmured Sam. "It's her favorite station...she's a journalist, you know..."

Ralf eyes widened. Sam...no...

His brain and his heart had rejected Emily's death.

Ralf was a soldier to the core. He had never before shed a tear, not even when his aunt had died. But this was too much. His dear, dear Sam; the boy who had saved him from drowning on a frozen lake, taken beatings for his wrongdoings, had camped with him for weeks and weeks in the wilderness. The two boys who had risked everything for one another.

Sam was tart, but kindly, an intelligent and strong independent, just like his deceased mother.

And now he was broken, shriveled on a bunk.

"She'll be home soon...I'll have to help her carry the laundry," he muttered.

Ralf felt his first tear run down his cheek. Emily had taken Sam's life as well as her own. This hollow form of a boy wasn't Sam; it was just an empty shell that looked like him. There was no longer light in his eyes.

"Mother...when will you come home?"

Suddenly Ralf hearkened to the radio.

"Wait...what is this?" he asked.

He listened carefully, and then dashed out of the cabin, leaving Sam in his misery. But he couldn't help but wipe a stream of liquid from his face with a sleeve as he left.

"Emily...where is my dinner, mother? I'm hungry, mother! I'm so, so hungry, mother..."

"Chiron!" screamed Ralf.

The centaur turned around.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked with concern. He could see the redness under Ralf's eyes.

"The Prime minister has been shot! Do you know what this means?" exclaimed Ralf, who was out of breath.

Chiron dropped his pinochle dice.

The two nodded in solemn agreement.

War.

* * *

DiDi had nearly died. She was too shocked to understand what had happened, and that fall had been worse than she thought. She had wavered between life and death for nearly a year in a rundown hospital. Bruno hadn't spoken for the same amount of time. He was in a traumatic shock.

Anger is a powerful thing. People still ask today how such a large opening in the earth ever formed behind the Three, now two, Widows Laundromat.

His mother had begged and pleaded for him to speak again, but Reizel gave up. It was no use.

When Didi finally recovered, and had come home, Bruno ran to the front door. Reizel looked up anxiously; the boy rarely left his bed nowadays.

"Devorah!" he exclaimed.

At this Nadia and Reizel began to weep with joy. Their little Bruno had spoken yet again! They had not heard his voice for so long...

Bruno began to speak rapidly.

"Do you remember that horrible monster?" he asked. Reizel winced. She had hoped he wouldn't bring that up. She didn't want DiDi to know just yet about the monsters. They were still so young.

DiDi seemed distant.

"What monster?" she asked.

Bruno frowned.

"Don't you remember? When we snuck down, our adventure? When we found out who our parents were?" Bruno asked. Didi shook her head. And Bruno gave up.

"If she doesn't remember, that's all the better," he thought along with his Aunts.

Reizel looked at Nadia with sadness.

Though the two women had little in common, they had always shared a deep sisterhood. There was a huge gap now where Emily, the very light of the once bright house, had once been. Without Emily around, the world seemed so empty. The boys were away, Bruno was silent, and DiDi had been at the hospital. The quiet had become unbearable.

Death either splits families apart, or beings them closer together. This death had brought Nadia and Reizel into a deeper friendship then they could ever have imagined, for they needed each other to cope with their loss.

But it doesn't always happen that way.

Hades had often visited Ralf in his dreams as a child.

"I'm coming for you, my son," he would say.

"I'm proud of you," he would say. Even before Ralf knew who he was. So Ralf never resented his father. Somehow he knew it was him.

"You will be strong beyond measure; you will lead your brethren to be the greatest of all nations!"

And thus, Ralf had fostered a deep passion for his home and heartland, the sweet invincible Germany. He was outspoken, brave and bold, unlike his timid mother.

And after his discovery of being a demigod, his father appeared to Ralf nearly every night. Why? Because he was Hades' favorite child. Ever. Why? Because Nadia was his favorite wife. That is, until he met a young Italian...

Hades lived a desolate life. His brothers had condemned him to forever babysit the damned. He lived among death; he radiated pure death. He was death.

Persephone was a beautiful thing, but she had no sympathy for him. He had always claimed he had taken her for her beauty, but that wasn't the true reason. He wanted to prove that even he, Hades, lowest of the low, could keep a wife like his brothers. No one would have found out he had kidnapped Persephone if it hadn't been for that darned Hephestus...

And Hades was miserable for it. Even if the other gods had never found out, he still wouldn't have been content. For he knew, deep down inside, that not even a minor god would ever accept him as a husband, although he was one of the big three, the most powerful gods.

Zeus was frequently tangled with mortals, just for the pleasure of it. He rarely cared who the woman was. Reizel, however, had been different. She was the one woman he could not have, and he courted her for nearly a year, longer than any other of his wives, even Hera. For Reizel was a fine woman.

Poseidon was better about his pick, though he too frequently had relations. He preferred kind women. He never really had respected a woman as much as Emily, though. He had offered his underwater kingdom to only three of his mortal wives; and they all had refused in order to protect their sons.

One had been Loe Nightshade, daughter of Zoe Nightshade and Hercules. He had always felt sorry for poor Zoe; she had given her heart to an absolute jerk. Her daughter had silvery eyes and never despaired despite her tragic history.

The other was Emily Lorrence, the spirited American reporter.

His favorite wife, however, whom he direly wished would stay with him under the seas, was young Sally Jackson. A woman with more spirit than any other mortal he had ever known. He knew he had picked the right women because of the fact that they were brave enough to leave his loving and protect their children. Spirited, strong, courageous women. But Poseidon often slipped, and he too participated in an occasional one night stand.

But Hades only picked women like Sally and Emily. He had only picked twelve mortal wives since the beginning of time.

For he wanted only the best.

And he loved Nadia more than any other woman in the world.

He would see to it that Ralf would make history.

And he did.

Just not the way he expected.

* * *

It had been three years since Ralf's arrival at camp half blood. Sam had gone insane over his mother's death in that time. On the day which the campers were to leave Camp Half Blood to go about their normal lives, Sam had fallen on Riptide.

Chiron wept as he cleaned the cursed blade.

Ralf and Yechiel had cried for their dead cousin, who had been like a brother.

That night, the sea was turbulent. Twenty ships were lost in freak waves.

Sam; just like Emily, he was the life of the three brothers. He was the only child like his mother. A strong, tart, spirited and courageous boy. Yechiel, son of a sharp, frank, and intelligent Reizel, was dreamy, and timid in his ways. Ralf, son of a dreamy and timid Nadia, was sharp, frank and intelligent.

Though the death of Emily had brought Reizel and Nadia closer together, it had split Ralf and Yechiel apart.

The two had little in common; but they had tried to persist.

Then Yechiel had met a girl; a daughter of Athena. They had fallen deeply in love; and they were both Jewish. He had gotten lost in his love life and forgotten about a career. Ralf's only love was for his country, and his father. Hades swelled with pride; never had he had such a good looking, hard working, talented and loving son. Many girls had thrown there hearts to he strong and brawny Ralf; but they were merely a nuisance to him, like houseflies.

Though they never fought, Ralf found that the gap between him and his cousin was slowly drifting farther and farther apart.

Now Yechiel lived in a large Jewish community in Hungary, alone with his beautiful wife. But sometimes when he smelled a sea breeze, who would remember Sam and Emily. Their ghostly faces appeared in the wind. He would weep for them, and Ralf was no different.

But Ralf had pursued his dream; he had become an officer in the military, who was now, full swing, fighting in World War I, with the flying Aces.

The gods were not part of this war; only the mortals were assisting in the battles. Thus, Ralf had little to worry about as a pilot. Zeus knew it wasn't worth the trouble his brother would give him if he zapped his favorite son.

That night, on a silent raid, Ralf would never know he was condemning millions to their deaths.

It was a quiet night. He was slowly patrolling above the very Hungarian town where his cousin Yechiel lived. Suddenly he remembered the Three Widows Laundromat. Where had the good days of childhood gone? He bit his lip, and suddenly a fleeting doubt entered him. He stared at the passenger seat of his Sopwith Camel. He kept the mini Helm of Darkness with him always, though he had not yet used it, just as Yechiel kept the spear under his bed. Ralf vaguely wondered if the helm could be causing these fleeting suspicions. He continued reminiscing about the old days of childhood when suddenly the radio buzzed.

"We've got info..." his reportee informed him.

Ralf's mouth hung open as he listened to the full report. The head chiefs of the Soviet Union, the Ottoman Empire, The United Kingdom, and the United Stares were conducting a secret meeting in the town below, trying to negotiate peace! A spy had informed him. But the Axis powers had not been invited...

Which meant...

They had to plotting an alliance. An alliance against the Axis.

If Ralf bombed the village, the War would be over.

The Axis would have won. Germany would have won. Hades would have won. All the world's greatest leaders would be dead.

He swooped in for a low dive, and with shaking hands, uncapped the safety on his trigger. But then he hesitated.

Yechiel.

Yechiel and his wife...

A Jewish patrol member saw the plane whizz by, and he smiled drunkenly. It was the end of Hannukah; a time to celebrate. Hungary was an axis power; but that didn't mean the Hungarians liked that. Stupid Germans, thinking they owned everything...

He raised his firearm carelessly, and nearly set off the wrong end.

Hades was busy with his son, trying to convince him of something. He noticed the Jewish gunman too late.

Ralf tried, desperately, to press the button. To end the first War of the World.

But he couldn't do it.

He wavered, pressing that switch. Was it better to cause the death of few to save the majority? Would Yechiel have understood? His thumb quavered over the release as he began to realize this was the first time he had ever had this thought. How many innocents had he killed? What was the meaning of this? Was Germany truly the supreme country? Did millions deserve to die for Germany's pride? Why had he never thought of this? Could he pull that trigger and kill his own cousin? He could picture Reizel shouting in anger... The remnants of their little family torn apart...But it was selfish to think of his own needs when he could end a war! But he was thinking for his family...It wasn't his life at risk...Would they agree? Who was he really doing this for? For Germany? Or for his own pride? Never in his life had Ralf faced such a difficult decision.

Hades was jumping with excitement, but he saw his son's hesitation.

Suddenly his father whispered in his ear,

"Boy, what are you doing? You have a chance to win the war! My favorite son, a son of Hades! Making History!" he hissed.

"But Yechiel...His wife...All the people..." Ralf murmured.

"That son of Zeus? Forget him! You'll see him in my kingdom someday. But you can win this, boy. My son..." Hades said, his voice full of pride and concern. There was no way he would humiliate his father over a son of Zeus. Right?

Hades never found out.

Ralf was gunned down; his plane sucked into a vortex of fire.

The Night was dark.

Hades just stood there, his mouth open; surely it was a dream!

Only gods rarely sleep.

The helm, the only thing fireproof (for it was forged in hell itself) floated away slowly, down into the dark depths.

The Jewish gunman grinned. Crazy Germans, trying to take over Hungarian lives... The members of the UN and the other political leaders quickly drove away at the sight of the explosion.

Hades did nothing for nearly an hour. This hadn't happened. It just hadn't.

Refusal to accept death was the fatal flaw of children of Hades. What irony.

But this had happened to Hades before; too many times now. The god knew he couldn't hide from it anymore. Ralf, his favorite son in the whole universe, was dead. He had to accept it.

And so Hades looked up, with murder in his stare.

That night, a new fatal flaw was born;

It was no longer disbelief; no longer failure to accept.

It was the nursing of a deep, lasting, grudge.

And the first grudge born of this flaw killed millions.

Revenge is a bitterweet thing.

There was a loud scream from the earth: Hades was furious.

If it hadn't been for that gunman... If it hadn't been for that filthy son of Zeus!

"All men, mortal and immortal, shall pay for my sons death!" he screamed into the void of the empty night.

"SONS OF ZEUS! BEWARE!" he screamed. The earth began to rumble.

He sobbed through his teeth...

His dear, dear Ralf! History would have been made! By a son of Hades! A son who loved him!

And the mortals had to pay too. But who? Who could he take away life from? Who could he take away life from the way his son's life had been taken? He was thinking with bitter hate; bitter rage. Curse his brothers and his father; curse the mortals! He had only one thing he had cared for; was one person so hard to ask? No. No: Zeus' offpring had taken his beautiful son.

"Tell me," he whispered.

Then he screamed into a rage;

"Tell me! What price must mortals pay for my son? For taking the only thing precious to me!"

Then it hit him straight on the forehead.

The one thing that Yechiel and the gunman had shared in common...

They were Jewish.

"Jews...JEWS!... you DIRTY, DIRTY JEWS!" he screamed, with rage unimaginable. The earth opened into a huge chasm, swallowing evreything on the surface.

And the whole town of the Jewish people dissapeared.

Hades was already not sound in the mind, but now it was worse.

This town was not enough. Not for his favorite son. No:

The whole race had to pay.

He knew he was being foolish and irrational, but he didn't care. He wished he himself could die. Dear Ralf!

"You will pay...you filthy, DIRTY Jews! You DIRTY sons of Zeus! You will pay for killing my helpless son! I WILL WIPE You off the face of the earth! If it's the last thing I do, I swear, on the River Styx, I'll kill you all!" he screamed.

Hades rarely breaks his word.

Thunder rumbled overhead.

* * *

Adolf threw his brush down in frustration. He was painting secretly in the attic again. He was haunted by a tall figure, from his dreams; and he had to paint it.

Adolf sighed. He had always wished to be an artist, but he was supposed to be in law school now. Both his mother and father didn't support the idea.

He rarely saw his father, though.

He was also one of the few demigods who had ever avoided Camp Half Blood.

Suddenly the door swung open.

"Father!" he exclaimed.

Adolf had seen him only three times before. And his father was weeping.

"My dear son..." he cried.

"What is it, father?" Adolf asked, with a snarl. If he was so dear, why did his father rarely visit?

But after he heard his father's story, he never again picked up the artist's brush. He now had a new purpose in life;

Cold, cold revenge.

"It is time you learned your history," muttered his father.

Bianca DiAngelo was wise to say that children of Hades should be wary of grudges;

For they truly can cause more misery than necessary.

Six year old DiDi and Bruno sat on a porch swing. The stars shone brightly overhead; they couldn't feel the sorrow Artemis had expressed.

They were dear children, enjoying the last days of their sweet youth; for adulthood always comes early for demigods, especially children of the big three.

They were free of fear; of grudges and hate; of worry or stress.

Bruno held Devorah's wrist, unaware that their godly parents could ever dissaprove. Unaware that this girl was supposed to be his enemy, now.

It was one of the last happy nights the two ever experienced.

Bruno had suddenly become lonely without Devorah. He spent all the time he could with her since she had come back from the hospital. The Laundromat had suffered recently. There was little business gong through; the children were sad because they could not make their monthly trip to the toymaker.

"Will we ever be rich?" sighed DiDi. She thought she was worried; but she didn't know what worry was until later.

"Yes," replied Bruno, hopefully.

"You and me. We'll have the best house ever. Well be rich, and we'll live happily ever after, like in my books," said Bruno. He wanted to stay with Devorah for a long time.

Devorah shook her head.

"No, you can't live together unless your married!" she said.

"Then we'll get married!" giggled Bruno in childish innocence.

DiDi blushed. The two had no idea what they were doing.

"Really?" she asked.

"Will you marry me DiDi?" he asked, giggling.

Didi was laughing as well. What a fun game!

"Yes! Yes, I'll marry you Bruno!" she squealed in delight.

It was the last laugh Didi ever gave for a long time.

Suddenly there was a scream from inside the house. Bruno rushed in, followed by Devorah, who was now truly worried.

Reizel was at Nadia's neck.

"MY SON! Your damn husband killed my SON! CURSE YOU TO Tartarus, you WENCH!" she screamed, trying to kill the other woman.

"After he did nothing to you! After he tried to save your son!" Reizel sobbed.

Nadia was crumpled, terribly afraid, on the floor. She didn't want to hurt Reizel.

Once death had brought the two together; but things never happen the same way twice.

This time, it had ripped the tattered remnants of the family apart.

"Just get out of the house! Get out!" she screamed. So Nadia ran, along with Bruno, whom she quickly grabbed on her way out he door.

"Wait! Momma! I didn't get to say goodbye to DiDi!" Bruno protested, but his mother ignored him. Reizel was currently a life threatening hazard.

Devorah ran to the front porch against her mother's will.

"Bruno! Bruno wait!" she called.

"I can't!" he yelled over his mother's shoulder.

"But you promised you'd marry me!" she shouted.

"I'll come back! Don't forget it! We'll be rich, remember?" Bruno called. Reizel shrieked in horror at the idea and slammed the door, forcing DiDi inside.

Bruno never saw his "fiancée" again for fifteen years.

Thus began the reign of, "The Widow's Laundromat."

* * *

"Hile. HITLER! Hile. HITLER!"

Adolf looked out his window with satisfaction.

If it hadn't been for those infernal Jews, they would have won the war. There would be no national debt.

Germans would be the masters of the earth.

So the Jews were going to pay. Big time.

Adolf Hitler would accomplish what Ralf Voorspiel could never have imagined.

He would not cower in the face of the trigger; those who must die would die.

Germany would rise yet again.

World War II was on its way. And so was the Holocaust.


	2. Reunion

(Thanks for the positive feedback, everyone. Enjoy. I just had to do a WWII story. Sorry the prologue was so long...I had to explain everything.)

"Bruno, where are headed?" called John. Bruno let a smile creep from his lips.

"To the pub! I'll be back in an hour or so," he replied.

"Make it half an hour. The Kapo inspector is coming round soon," said John.

Bruno nodded and headed toward the door. He righted his cap, and stepped out onto the broad street. So much had changed since the last time he had been here...

Bruno's dark eyes observed the children playing, laughing in the street. These things would arouse memories within him once in a while. Hades visited Bruno occasionally, but nobody could replace Ralf. Bruno was a bit spaced out; he never did extremely well in camp subjects. He liked art. Apparently children of Hades are good at art...

Bruno then noticed something he hadn't seen before. Among the boys playing in the street was another boy who was a bit shorter. But the real significance of this was the yellow piece of cloth stitched to his coat.

Bruno understood. A Jew. The star of David. Although Bruno never found out that his father was the cause of this insane war, Bruno didn't support anti semitism; because he remembered DiDi from so long ago. The Jewish girl he was enamored with. He watched the children play, unaware that they were supposed to be enemies. The innocence of being together touched Ralf. The little Germans paid no attention to that yellow fabric that banned that poor child from the sympathy of all the adults of this grand country. Bruno shook his head.

He knew who he was but it depressed him to think that he had no idea where he was going in life. He had nothing to identify with. He knew his father was in a war with his brothers, but Hades didn't ask him to do anything about it. Bruno didn't care for politics. He had no idea that Jews were being sent by the boatload to their deaths; and he certainly didn't know that his father was the reason. And although he didn't support the persecution of Jews, he didn't do anything to intervene. He was just another Nazi soldier.

His mother had found him a fiancée at age fifteen. Bruno was to marry Hilda on his eighteenth birthday, which was in six months. Hilda was round and loud; Bruno did not care at all for her, but she had money. He could have lived without it, but his mother certainly couldn't have. Bruno sighed and poured himself a drink.

When he arrived back at the station, the inspector seemed pleased except for the fact that there was dirty laundry everywhere. John and Ralf agreed to go to the nearby laundromat to clean off their garments.

Thus the fates wove the first thread of Bruno's tragedy.

"Where did they say it was?" Bruno muttered.

John sighed.

"I swear Bruno, your head truly is in the clouds. Don't you remember anything?"

Bruno shrugged.

John shook his head.

"You're hopeless. Come on, they said it was down this street," John said. He knew Bruno didn't know what to do with his life. He could have promoted many times now, perhaps even to a Nazi lieutenant, but Bruno didn't want the extra responsiblity. He just shook his head and continued to walk.

"What ho, here it is!" said Bruno, who was relieved he wouldn't have to carry the laundry anymore. He didn't see the weathered sign overhead, which had long since faded away. He could tell it was a laundromat by the display window. He knocked rapidly on the door.

"Bruno! What are you doing?" cried John in horror.

Bruno cocked his head.

"What?" he asked, confused. John knew that Bruno was spaced out often, but this was too much.

"Bruno, you need to get your act together!" John hissed.

"We can't wash our clothes here! We'd have to burn them!" Bruno was still confused. But then he noticed what John was talking about; on the front door, there was a huge yellow star with the word "Jude," painted in the middle. This was a Jewish business. Before Bruno could do anything, the door swung open. Bruno stood, face to face, with a small Jewish woman. She had silky blonde hair and electric blue eyes that gave Bruno goosebumps. The glare in those eyes quickly changed to a look of fear when the girl saw his uniform.

"Glorious soldier, how do you do? What must I do?" she said and bowed quickly. The girl was obviously terrified, and no one could blame her. People were being deported everyday...Why else would two Nazi officers show up at her front door?

"Miss..." Bruno said, kindly. There was something familiar about this girl...

John kicked her swiftly in the ribs with a snarl.

"Little wench, how dare you adress an officer without being adressed! Come Bruno, let's find a suitable laundromat," John said.

Suddenly the girl looked up sharply from her spot on the floor.

"Bruno?" she muttered weakly. Bruno suddenly was beginning to remember. John howled in rage and went to step on her face, but Bruno fought him.

"Stop it John! Wait a minute!" he cried.

John snarled.

"What the hell are you doing Bruno?"

Bruno stared at a huge fissure in the earth next to the laundromat. Now he remembered. He looked up at the weathered sign.

"The Wdws Ladroat," he managed to decipher from the faded letters.

He looked down in surprise. It couldn't be...

"Devorah?" he asked meekly.

"Bruno!" she replied.

He lowered a hand while John stared in shock.

"You...you know this Jew?" he asked with disgust. Bruno suddenly gave Devorah a big hug. He had missed her all those years.

People started to stare and John cried out. Devorah shoved Bruno away.

"Bruno, you mustn't do things lime that! You can be killed!" she exclaimed.

Poor clueless Bruno had not thought of this possibility.

(I fixed the page break problem, so here is the new chapter. Thanks a lot, and please review!)


	3. Names of the Past

Bruno was a dreamer.

Yet it is still debatable today:

He dared to dream, and thus came his end. But did he come to a better end than he would have otherwise because of the pursuit of happiness?

That, my friend, is something even Zeus does not know.

* * *

Bruno took a bicycle to the pub: but he had not come to drink tonight. He had come for another purpose. He was a man of patience, if you could even call him a man: for he had the heart and the soul of a boy: a boy who was put in a world he didn't belong.

When the clock struck twelve and the curfew was called, he carefully mounted his bicycle and pedaled towards the Widow's Laundromat. The streets were mostly empty, but Bruno did not even consider the serious consequences if caught. He was lucky enough this time.

When he reached the worn building, he knelt to the crack in the earth where he had once destroyed the minotaur. Rock and dirt flecked from the cavity, and he gently collected as many pebbles as he could carry. Then, with trembling gait, he approached the base of the edifice.

It was a difficult task for Bruno to hurl the stones at Devorah's window: at least, he hoped it was Devorah's window. It had been many years... hopefully she had not changed the location of her room. Because he was too simple to place the pebbles on the ground and aim carefully, he frequently missed due to arms full of rocks.

When he finally pinpointed her window, Devorah did not answer. Bruno tried many times, but it was not until the tenth time that he was successful in gaining her attention. Unfortunately, a split second before Bruno had thrown the missile, Devorah had flung open the shutter, thus resulting in a very solid rock making a deep "thud," on her forehead. She winced in pain and cried out.

"Who's there?"

Bruno gasped with recoil.

"Dear Devorah, I am sorry about the rock!"

The rock was quickly forgotten as Devorah began to realize who this visitor was.

"Bruno? Is that you?" she said.

"Yes, it is I!" he replied with joy.

Devorah bit her lip.

"You fool! What are you doing here!" she hissed.

She normally would have been wary of speaking this way to a Nazi: in fact, she was wary of speaking to one at all. She would most certainly be punished for speaking when not spoken too, and she would have been murdered for what she had just said. However, it had occurred to Devorah that this was indeed the Bruno she had once known: entirely. He had not bothered to change at all. The boy was still engaged in random, careless thought, and there was no doubt he had either not considered the danger of this meeting or was unaware of it.

"I came to see you, of course! Don't you miss me at all, DiDi?" he asked.

Devorah gave a little gasp. The day Bruno had left, her mother had never used the nickname again. It was long forgotten, in the past, like her brief childhood. Suddenly, a wind riffled her hair, and the memories returned.

She could hear Bruno's laughter.

She could see the laundry, hanging in the breeze.

She could see Reizel scolding Yechiel, her long dead brother, and Sam painting the fence.

She saw Emily listening to the radio, and Nadia baking a cake. Ralf was reading a book.

She was there again: there at the Three Widow's laundromat.

And although she was still there, physically, she was estranged from the place that had once been home, with a mother whose bitterness was spreading to her morale.

DiDi.

The last connection with the old days.

As she walked slowly down the steps to meet him, suddenly her heart was full of emotion. She descended with grace, step one, step two... but the world seemed to spin out of control. She stopped near the bottom of the staircase and found herself kneeling, holding on to the railing for support. She gave a subtle gasp, and sat down, head in hands.

"DiDi," she murmured.

There was a deep silence of a kind that was not at all comforting: it hung like a heavy curtain in the air, with the feel of a toy doll that has been broken, left alone in its solitude.

"DiDi!" she cried a bit louder.

Her mind became dark.

She saw Reizel throwing a vase at Nadia. She could hear her screaming.

She felt the insanity of Sam, crying for a mother that would never return.

She saw Ralf explode into a thousand pieces, dissolving in the dark night.

She could hear the cries of her brother as he was swallowed into the earth, along with the cries of her people. The people who were sent to their doom.

"DiDi." She could not recognize the voice as her own.

"What happened to you? Where did you go!" she exclaimed, losing all control.

She felt overwhelmed with distress: what was happening to her? Why was she acting this way? There was something about that... about that name that made her cry in woe.

"DiDi..." she said again, barely above a whisper.

She looked at her hands: the hands that had stitched many a tattered garment. The hands that had pounded the floor, cursing their own fate again and again. The hands that would soon be pulling chain link, dying inside a recreated hell, for it had been recreated by the guardian of hell itself. These were the hands that had thrown glasses at the wall in hate: hate that her father, the most powerful of all, would not help her. Hate for her uncle who had imprisoned the people of her mother. Hate for him. For Bruno's father.

"Oh, God! Why have you forsaken me?"

The meaning of the words struck her. That silent meaning.

"Why have you forsaken me?"

There was a quiet creaking of the door. A sliver of moonlight pierced through the open crack, revealing the figure behind it.

All her life she had hated that figure: the black jacket, the cruel leather boots, the broad cap and shoulders. She had hated that jet black hair and dark eye of her persecutor: but most of all, she hated that red circle. The ensign of the Nazi.

They had come, with chisels in their hands: the chisels that would destroy her identity, and make her one of them!

One of the thousands. They would make her a Jew. A filthy, lying Jew who had destroyed Germany.

And when they had chiseled away her identity, they would throw her in the crematory and burn the shreds that remained.

She despised that evil figure.

But now: the world had changed. Everything was different: somehow, somehow... but why?

Why now did those eyes seem so caring, the gaze seem so firm: why did the figure in the doorframe appeal to her senses so greatly?

Bruno rushed to her side.

"Devorah, don't cry! What is the matter?" he said, his voice so full of compassion Devorah felt she would burst.

"DiDi," she said.

"Call me DiDi!" she cried. "The way you used to!"

Bruno held the frail form of Devorah close to his chest. Her hot tears fell on the ensign, drenching it, blotting out the dark stamp which bound him to his nation.

"Dear heart, don't cry."

She looked up with gratitude.

And so Romeo and Juliet kissed on the staircase, the man and the woman who loved one another, who could never be together, and were bound to end their tragic tale in death.

(A/N... Okay, sounding grim so far. Sorry. I hope I didn't make you too depressed to read further.)


	4. Innocence, Negligence, Sense,Sensibility

(Those who are wondering why this is updated I fixed some things in one of the chapters.

Thanks for that very helpful anonymous CC review.

That was real helpful and I will be applying those changes soon!

BTW, are you bored? If you are, check out my forum, "Newbies to Fanfiction, Specifically Percy Jackson." It's not really for newbs anymore, it's just for random chat. The first person to post something on random chat gets a special prize! :D check it out.

...

Good reviews, all.

I must say, however, I am a bit disappointed. My other fics are crap and they get a lot more reviews.

It's almost not worth it to write quality.

As for the person who went into the names, good job.

I named Devorah after Deborah in the bible.

I named Bruno after the Boy in the Striped Pajamas (Pyjamas? British Variant, I think) because of his childish innocence. Kudos to all. Enjoy this as one of my finer fics. Btw, I will use the tetragrammaton in respect to all Jews out there. If you don't know what that is, it is the symbol for God (YHWH) but they feel it is too holy to properly say God's name.)

"Lord Zeus, we must inform you of an attack..."

The King of the gods let the report drone on. Attack here, attack there, Hades destroyed this, Hitler destroyed that, Nemesis was rallying up the Japanese again, siding with Hades, Hades, Hades...

"Get out of here, Damn it!"

He raised his master bolt with rage and blasted the messenger clear off Olympus. Zeus always remembered the plastered look of horror, etched on his face, forever wandering what he did wrong. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Damn him, damn that Hades.

"Melina, get over here."

The maid approached him with anxiety, careful of every word she said.

Hestia sat, unnoticed in the corner, tending the flames with an iron poker. She sensed the distress of the King, but kept silent. She would speak when the time was right.

"And where the hell is my daughter? Why is she late again! Damn it, can't anyone obey my command?"

As to enforce his point, thunder rang out through all of Olympus. He snarled in frustration. Could anything else go wrong?

"Melina, did you get a ship for my grandson?" he asked with annoyance.

She swallowed nervously.

"You mean Einstein?"

Zeus roared with impatience.

"Of course I meant Einstein, wench! Who else?"

Athena rushed into the throne room, armor askew. She was panting, her hair in a tumble and her eyes lit with storm.

"Father-"

"Where the Hell have you been? You never come when I call you and-"

Athena shook with rage.

"FATHER!"

"How dare you interrupt me, you-"

"We need to get out of here! Now!"

Zeus looked at her with a strange gaze.

"What?"

Athena straightened her armor and helmet.

"The Axis. They did it. They crossed the river."

Zeus opened his mouth in shock.

"How? We had all these troops-"

"I don't know how. But they did. We need to get out of this place."

Zeus stood back in disbelief.

"Impossible. We still have these forces surrounding Paris and..."

"FATHER!" Athena screamed. She had had enough of her father's childish games! She clenched her fists, gray eyes ablaze, and gave the King a piece of her mind.

"Get your head out of the clouds! Er..."

She realized the stupidity of that statement, but continued anyway.

"You know the troops can never withstand this attack!"

She pounded the strategy table, sending hundreds of tiny Axis and Ally figures and encampments flying across the room.

She looked her father square in the eye, unafraid, and squinted with dead seriousness.

"Those troops are on the move and fast. Paris will fall. In three days or less, Paris will fall, and so will Olympus!"

She recoiled, with seething rage at her utter helplessness.

Zeus couldn't believe this. Hades was winning. Hades was winning the war! He said nothing to his daughter, turning away, but Athena wasn't finished. She took out a map and laid it across the table. Zeus sighed in defeat.

"Please, daughter, not another map..."

Athena ignored him. She was his golden child; no one else on Olympus could speak this way to him and get away with it.

"We need to move."

Zeus winced.

"How? How can we move in three days?"

Athena looked up coldly.

"I'm an architect. Hephaestus will help. We'll rebuild Olympus."

Zeus sighed and let his daughter ramble. He was too tired for words.

"The heart of the West is in America now. Besides, it's isolated and we can regroup there. If we rouse the Americans, surely they will fight. Hardy group, those Americans. We have to pick the location of the New Olympus."

Zeus frowned.

"What locations are available?"

Athena pointed to the map.

"There is San Francisco, Washington D.C, New York City, and New Orleans."

Zeus sighed. Who cared?

"Pick as you wish, my daughter."

Suddenly there was a frenzy of activity. Minor gods, demigods, major gods, rushing to and fro, packing their precious possessions and running madly about. Panic was everywhere.

"Paris has fallen-"

"What the hell!"

"No, not yet-"

"We can't just leave-"

"Empire State Building? Where is it?"

"Damn Hades-"

"Who the-"

The voices began to buzz in his ears and Zeus groaned in irritation, slamming the throne room door shut.

"Melina, did you make sure Dr. Oppenheimer and Einstein are scheduled to meet?"

Melina nodded.

The fire slowly weaned in the corner. With a great sigh, Hestia put out the final flames as Olympus' reign in Paris ended.

"Damn him, damn him..."

He blasted a vase. He blasted another.

Why did he have to put up with this?

"He killed my son, my Reizel's son, and he expects me..."

Zeus just screamed in rage and frustration. Why? He was king, king of the gods and he had to put up with this crap! From his own brother!

"Love."

There was a soft murmur from the corner that caught Zeus by surprise.

"Negligence of love. Hades chooses his love carefully; but his family refuses to show him love he deserves, and destroyed his only son (No one quite knew about Bruno). And so he was driven to madness. You can't be negligent with love and send people in the dark. It would make anyone go mad."

Zeus had zoned out at the word "love." He had remembered someone else, and had not listened to the rest of Hestia's wise words. As she turned away, in bitter sadness, she realized that this negligence would someday go against them. She heard the King softly speaking to Melina.

"Reizel..."

"-No word- Heart of enemy territory..."

Their words were barely audible.

Hestia shuddered.

"It is within you, my Lord. You have that love within you. If only you could show it."

Only Hestia never neglected her duties of love, with the exception of maybe Artemis. Even Aphrodite was negligent. She was truly the goddess of lust, not love.

Hestia someday would find that she was right; the negligence of love towards demigods would someday cause a war that made this one seem like patty cakes.

Yes, Hestia never forgot.

After all, it made her the Last Olympian.

...

Devorah knelt in the garden, staring up at the cold moon, hidden behind a cloud of water vapor. Or perhaps there was more to its content.

She buried her head deep again in those hands of experience.

There had been a time where she had been desperate to run; to escape the perils of Berlin. She was shocked that they had not been deported yet; today her only friend, Julia, had been taken away. To Auschwitz. Not Birkenau. The Auschwitz.

She would never see her friend again.

Well, perhaps in Tartarus.

She knelt down and weeped for those poor unfortunate souls, who thought death would bring them relief. She knew there was little for Jews on the earth or below it; and she did not even want to think what awaited her; a Jew and a daughter of Zeus.

Her mother prayed everyday to her husband; but there was no reply. Reizel was stunned; how could her Lord forget her? How could he be so negligent?

Now she knew there was no escape, none. She couldn't leave Berlin, and her mother had never ending faith in her husband.

Devorah was convinced he had abandoned them long ago. Just like he'd abandoned the Jews.

And then there was this... Romance. With Bruno.

What on earth was she thinking?

She couldn't make sense of her emotion. Bruno was just so... Refreshing. He didn't seem to notice that the world was crumbling in around his ears. He didn't seem to remember that their fathers were mortal enemies. He had lived on that promise he had made as a child and couldn't seem to shake off youth. His spirit could not be dampened. But she had to admit, she was worried.

A gypsy had once told her her future was written on her hands. But all Devorah could see was the past. The wrinkles of time all over her palms. Then again, she could envision the future chains of despair laced across her wrists, the cuts she would receive from working in the mines. Many of her piers did not believe ill would fall upon them, but Devorah knew. She knew that the guardian of hell would do his best to recreate it on earth.

The moon was so cold.

So, so cold!

Devorah was strong and not usually emotional. But she could hear the cries of her people.

"Oh, God the almighty YHWH, how we praise your name..."

She raised her broken voice and sang with them.

How lucky they were, to have a God who cared for their well being, who had a paradise waiting for them. How lucky they were.

"God praise his name, almighty YHWH! God praise his name!"

She broke down on the steps.

She would give anything to have a God like that. The God of her people.

Her gods had the temperament of children. Their anger and boredom caused no end of misery for the mortals of earth.

"Almighty YHWH..."

She was ashamed.

She was ashamed to be half god.

She was ashamed of her heritage.

Damn them all to Tartarus.

She heard the gate creak and instantly she felt warmth surround her and the affection of a pair of loving arms. She held his hand, grateful for the presence of Bruno.

"DiDi... Please, now what is the matter, dear?"

She sobbed on his shoulder.

"They took Julia today. They're taking them by the boatload."

He clutched her head to shoulder gently, trying to mend her despair.

"Come now, please don't cry so much. It will all turn out."

Bruno always said that. He always said it would all turn out. But reality had slammed into Devorah: she couldn't hide from it anymore.

"No, Bruno, no it won't. Nothing can save me now..." she cried. Bruno was distressed. Why was she always so emotional?

"Maybe... Maybe you could talk to him, and he could help me..." she whispered. Bruno arched an eyebrow.

"The Kapo officer? No, he hates me-"

"Your father! Idiot!" Devorah snapped. Bruno stepped back in recoil. DiDi winced. She hadn't meant to snap.

"Forget it. It's suicide going to him. I'm a daughter of Zeus AND a Jew," she said regretfully.

There was silence.

"My father... He hasn't spoken to me for a while," Bruno said softly. Devorah pouted.

"No, he's too busy sending millions of us to our deaths."

Bruno stepped back. Devorah had been ranting on, but he wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"What? What are you saying?" he asked.

Devorah turned to him sharply. Impossible! He couldn't be that clueless, could he? Why... How? Could he possibly not know that this war was all his father's fault?

"Don't you know? Don't you know, Bruno? What happened to Ralf? And Yechiel?" she said, bewildered. Bruno shook his head.

"Mother never told me."

She opened her mouth in shock. She couldn't believe Nadia would hide it from him. Then she looked at his face: it was simple and confused. Somehow, she understood now. It was pure innocence: a pool full of water, a landscape full of snow, where she didn't want to step and leave a mark. She didn't want to touch that innocence and destroy it forever. Yet, she knew it was her duty, now. She swallowed and muttered,

"Bruno... Ralf died. Your father went insane and now he hates Jews... He opened a chasm in the earth, the way you did there-" here she pointed to the crevice in the ground where the minotaur had once fallen- "and swallowed up my brother. He...He killed my brother."

Bruno was taken aback.

"No...No, how could he?"

He looked so utterly hurt that it broke Devorah's heart, but she continued as quickly as possible to get it done and over with.

"Bruno, he started this war, don't you know? Hitler... Hitler is your brother!"

Bruno's mouth hung open. To think all this time he had been royalty. But... Yechiel...He had always considered Yechiel to be his best friend. Even more than Ralf, his own brother. Devorah turned away.

"And now... now he's taking out on my people! Jews are being taken away every day-"

Bruno looked up.

"To the day camps?" he asked.

Devorah stared at him blankly.

"What?"

"To the day camps?" he repeated.

Devorah scoffed.

"How- How... How can you be that clueless, Bruno? Don't you understand? Your father is the keeper of hell! Do you really believe that propaganda?" she was almost screaming now.

"Don't you see those clouds? Don't they look rather dark to you? Do really believe that the Jews are going to day camps?"

Bruno didn't know what to say. He still didn't quite get it.

"But...what is he doing? What is he-"

Devorah stomped her foot in frustration.

"He's killing us! He's going to murder every Jew on this earth! He's going to burn us alive and fill all of Germany with ash cloud! He's-"

"No!" Bruno yelled.

"No, you're lying stop it!" he screamed.

His father couldn't have done this. He just couldn't have. He didn't kill Yechiel. He didn't kill Jews.

"You can't hide from it, Bruno! Don't try and-"

"Shut up!"

Suddenly the ground opened into a chasm yet again. Devorah screamed and fell over backwards, but luckily Bruno was alert and managed to grab her hand before she fell in.

"Bruno! Oh my gods, Bruno, help me! Don't let me die, no, not yet, Bruno help me!" she cried. Bruno pulled with all his might until she finally had been hauled over the side.

They sat on the edge, panting, still shaken from Bruno's accidental power usage.

Suddenly a german man yanked Bruno away from Devorah. He had been attracted by all the yelling, and seeing him on top of her, he grew furious.

"What do you think your doing, lad? What is Germany coming to! A Kapo officer, of all people...Miss, are you al-"

Then he saw the yellow star imprinted on her clothing. The man stuttered.

"Oh...Oh. Carry on, lad."

With that he left.

Bruno cried out loud on the ground.

"Oh, Devorah, it's true! They can't even respect a Jewish... My father...why did...oh..."

Poor Bruno was overwhelmed with the possibility that his father had caused all this hatred. No one deserved to be treated this way.

Devorah looked down into the chasm.

"Let that remind you, Bruno. Let that remind you of your father's power."

Bruno said nothing. He couldn't believe this.

Silence reigned for a while.

When Bruno finally stood up to leave, he wiped a tear from his cheek and handed Devorah a book.

"Here. Here, I got you one since you said you couldn't get any books."

Devorah smiled. How sweet of him. She read the cover with amusement.

"Sense and Sensibility."

Devorah had read this one a thousand times, and she knew the moral of the story.

You needed a little logic and sense, as well as emotion and sensibility to have a perfect relationship.

( Wow... That chapter was horrible and it moved way too fast. I don't really have time to fix it though, maybe I will later. Enjoy everyone.

GIMME A REVIEW!

I DON'T CARE IF IT'S A FREAKING FLAME, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW I'M DESPERATE PEOPLE!

Thanks.)


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